


Confusion

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Possessive James Bond, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q liked to think of himself as a prototype AI, even if he isn't anything more than a man in a coma with his brain connected to MI6's internal servers. He also gets constant errors, especially if a certain agent is involved.</p>
<p>Prompt fill for lovely sunaddicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confusion

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Confusion(中文)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10880544) by [minikate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minikate/pseuds/minikate)



> Lovely sunaddicted from tumblr asked for an AI!Q that starts to have feelings for James and gets really shy about it. 
> 
> This story... went where it wanted to go, getting mixed with a muse that wasn't quite done with something.
> 
> Still, I hope everyone enjoys it and please forgive the mistakes.

He was the embodiment of the perfect agent that everybody sought. He was not the type of agent who worked in the field, but the one who pulled the strings behind the curtains and ensured that all the agents had their needs taken care of, that the equipment they were using was the newest and the best, that the information fed to him was correct, and that they actually had an MI6 and country to return to when their mission was done by constantly rebuilding the firewalls and security protocols that protected them. And he could do all of it at the same time without a single fraction of a second of hesitation

 

He was not exaggerating and no one was praising a false god or discussing a theory; his superiors in years and titles insisted on showcasing his abilities to the worried people that reigned even higher in the world’s hierarchy the second he was brought online. And they continued to test him every month to ensure that his processing capacities did not get diminished by the insane calculations he had to make in order to keep everything running smoothly.

 

That didn’t bother him in the least. Actually, in theory, it was impossible for him to be bothered by anything – or feel anything else for that matter – because he was an AI. But, like previously stated, that was only in theory. In practice, Q was _feeling_ a lot of things and he wasn’t sure if this was because he had been human before or because he had gotten reacquainted with a certain agent.

 

For example, every time a bureaucrat tried to rain on his parade and reduce him to a pop-up blocker – as if that was possible – he felt annoyed. He felt annoyed and wished to play a trick on him. But his crew, his loyal army of technicians, took revenge for him, saving him from the deadly stigma of a dangerous AI that got the taste of metaphorical human blood – he felt happy and pleased when that happened, adding a mix of safety because the ones who were put in there to protect him did just that.

 

“They have always been loyal to you, Q,” Miss Moneypenny liked saying every time that happened. “And they, just like the agents, always did and do their best to protect you.” She looked sad when she said that, her eyes seeing something that wasn’t there and her voice burdened with regret and helplessness.

 

“It is useless for me to point out that they would not be allowed to work in MI6 if they were not.” He actually wanted to ask her for stories of the past, ask her why she acted the way she did, but he didn’t. “You are needed in M’s office, Miss Moneypenny.” Instead, he sent her away with a very obvious lie, wishing to be left alone with the memory he didn’t have and which he didn’t want and yet, at the same time, he did.

 

Could he be blamed for the moments in which he wanted to _remember_? Or could his status as the ultimate Quartermaster be brought into question because he wanted to become perfect by recovering every piece that was missing? So what if many IT specialists believed that his memories would make him more human and thus, turned him into a flawed AI? They were _his_ bloody memories, his bits of data, and he wanted them back without the help of anyone.

 

He was constantly running improved programs that were designed to recover last data on his physical brain, but neither of them wielded any results and he was left being teased by flashes of his life as a human that made no sense and meant nothing to him at this moment in time mixed with what he guessed to be precious memories of his life before MI6 – of course he’d have a better grasp of the latter because they were rather useless.

 

There were other kind of errors he was getting, such as the sensation of his arms or face tingling every now and then, calling a meeting with the Medical team in charge of overseeing his body the second time that happened. But they were quick to assure him that it was normal and he was probably feeling when his body was being washed or when they were changing his IV bags.

 

Q was still suspicious about those sensations and was under the impression that the staff had lied to him, but since he wasn’t getting any worrisome readings regarding his body – or he was, given that there was no change whatsoever – he was free to focus on the bits of memory he had.

 

What was he supposed to make out of a steaming mug of liquid placed on a bedside table with a note on it? Why was ‘The Fighting Temeraire’ so deeply embedded in his brain that if he concentrated for just a second, he remembered how it looked to the last brush? Or why was he so fascinated by a certain shade of blue that seemed to match only the eyes of that certain agent? He seemed to be fascinated by stags and the words ‘sky’ and ‘fall’ always made him check his systems three times and be apprehensive about what was plugged in the main computer. He also checked over and over again how martinis were made, as well as health smoothies. The sun setting on a beach, the sound of his laughter mixed with some else’s, a stove on fire, a dimly lighted restaurant, a late night in his former office.

 

“They’re all useless,” he growled and R turned to look at him confusedly.

 

“Quartermaster, is everything in order?” She asked, glancing at the screens on which the writing was moving too fast for her to really understand anything. “Did something happen to your programs?”

 

He shook his head. “The programs are working perfectly,” he assured her, slowing them down a bit – it wouldn’t affect the outcome beyond not getting the results faster. “And before you ask, all the agents are safe and ahead of their original schedules.”

 

She checked her tablet and clicked her tongue. “Even 007?” She asked carefully, trying – and failing – to hold back a smile when all the screens that weren’t being used by other minions changed to show the agent’s current mission.

 

“Behind of schedule, as usual,” he admitted, narrowing his eyes and unlocking the door that he was having trouble with. “I do not know what he is trying to accomplish by going in that building. All my information and specs show that his target is in the next one.”

 

She pointed to a screen where she saw that a few guards were making their way towards 007, chuckling when they were shocked by the door that stood between them and him, a message on another screen informing that that their phones and earwigs had been disconnected from the main network. “And yet, you are helping him instead of ordering him to get back on track, as usual,” she pointed out. “Might I ask why?”

 

She might, but he wasn’t sure that he actually had an answer for her. He always went easy on this agent when it came to him not following the mission plan to the letter and he also realized that he went out of his way to offer him the best equipment he could create, openly showing his annoyance when the man returned empty handed and filled with cuts, bruises, and/or bullet holes.

 

Even more confusingly, that felt _normal_.  As did the strange things he felt when the man smiled, smirked, grinned, winked, leaned over his desk, and brought him an array of things that appeared to be beyond useless – he had eventually asked the man what he expected him to do with the boxes of tea, the interesting looking articles of clothing, the USB sticks with programs that were too old to be of any real use to anyone anymore, broken computer parts that were almost as old as his physical body, and the snow globes that most definitely fell into the kitsch category.

 

It was something that he would regret doing, because it made him question things he shouldn’t question because it slowed down his abilities.

 

“I know that your boffins like tea,” the agent said after hesitating for a moment, looking disappointed and sad.

 

“Wouldn’t it be more logical for you to give it to them directly then, 007?” He wondered how they smelled and tasted, a mug with the letter ‘Q’ flashing in his mind when he tried to grab a box. “Completely useless,” he muttered.

 

The agent looked at him for a moment, shaking his head. “They would think that I wanted to play a prank on them, I am sure. So would you be so kind as to inform them that the tea is for them? Their moral will go through the roof if they are presented with this gift from their beloved Overlord.”

 

He knew the agent was lying since his heart was beating just a tad faster – curious, since the agent was an expert at controlling himself – so he decided to teach him a lesson. “I will discuss this with M and propose a team building exercise meant to increase the trust—”

 

“They are for you because you like, no, _adore_ tea,” the agent admitted and the way he did it caused the AI to flicker. “Q, are you okay? Is anyone trying to hack you? Did something happen to your system?” He was trying to grab him for whatever reason, growing more and more annoyed and desperate every time his hands passed through him, growling.

 

And even though he didn’t feel the other’s touch, he couldn’t help but flicker more and getting even more confused until he decided to shut the hologram off. “Don’t panic,” he ordered, fiddling with the voice volume controls to make it sound normal. “My systems aren’t affected because of outside interference, agent, so take deep breaths before I summon medical.”

 

“You’re not here!” The agent snapped and moved around the room, pushing things out of his way and tapping computers and keyboards, only calming down when the hologram of his Quartermaster appeared before him, hands crossed over his chest.

 

He waited for the agent to calm down, making an appointment with the specialists that had facilitated his transformation into a sort of AI – leaving behind notes of his strange behaviour, the fact that he was _feeling_ things which he could easily name, and that he had started to doubt what he was.

 

“I can’t drink the teas, nor wear the clothes,” he said after 007’s heartbeat and blood pressure went down and he gave out a sigh of relief. “But your record shows that you tend to do confusing things, so if wasting your money helps you feel better…” He trailed off and pointed at the other gifts. “Still, I am curious about the rest of these things that you used to litter my office with.”

 

“You used to like it when I did this, Q,” the agent explained and that made Q put a few programs on hold so he could try and force his human brain to do something more than keep him connected with his human body. “But you don’t remember and you currently don’t care for these things, do you?” He added, the disappointment in his voice too much, too evident, and too honest for Q not to be affected – and he doubted that a _pure_ AI wouldn’t have learned pity if it were in his place.

 

“Agent, I simply do not see their purpose in my current condition. I might have liked the gifts even though they seem like the perfect way to land myself multiple suspensions that pended investigations under the suspicion of bribery. ” He felt bad for the man and he regretted not being able to at least pat his back or squeeze his shoulder without his hand going through him, but he couldn’t help but apply logic.

 

“If it helps, that never happened,” James offered, uneasy smile on his lips. “Firstly – and allow me to point out that I considered this to be the most important point – because everybody knows you are a mean of integrity and secondly because no one is dumb enough to actually think that people could be swayed into practically _giving_ away equipment that’s worth hundreds of thousands of pounds.”

 

The man spoke the truth, although Q did find in their systems that a few people had attempted to suspend him from his position as Quartermaster due to the way 007 was acting towards him, noting in their reports that the agent had never done that for anyone else. Knowing that made that feel he couldn’t quite place become stronger and he almost started flickering again, controlling himself only because he didn’t want to hear the desperation in 007’s voice again.

 

Maybe that was what made him shift his appearance to incorporate the most colourful cardigan the man had brought him. “I will advise you to stop wasting money on such frivolous things when it comes to me.”

 

“You will,” James agreed, nodding his head.

 

Q sighed – he always acted human when the agent was around, though the frustration he felt was more than welcomed due to how familiar it was. “And you will ignore it because you were programed to do the exact opposite of what I tell you to do.”

 

James forced himself to grin and that made him look scary and unnatural. “I will, but because I know you will wear them in real life and grumble your annoyance at whatever dumb thing I do in your favourite tea mug.” He tried to run his hand down Q’s shoulder, frowning when it passed right through him.

 

“That question has no point, R,” he finally said, alarms going off the second he saw 007 drop his gun and kneeling from a kick to the stomach. “But I do pose and equally pointlessly one when I ask what 007 would do without me?” The sprinklers went off as did all the alarms, distracting the guards long enough for the agent to recover and save himself, Q flickering as he sighed.

 

“ _Be completely lost_ ,” 007’s voice drifted through the coms. “ _And speaking of which, would you terribly mind directing me towards my goal?_ ”

 

“Does MI6 want to know what you were doing in there?” R asked, hands on her hips. “Other than wasting time, getting new bruises, and forcing Q to run even more programs than he already is? He flickered four—”

 

“The GPS data in your phone is still correct 007,” Q cut her off. “And, surprisingly enough, I see that your phone is still intact.”

 

Of course the agent ignored everything he said, heart beating a bit faster than normal. “ _Did you have the technicians check to make sure that no one’s trying to harm him? Did you check with the nurses and doctors? Is all of him okay?_ ”

 

“Bond,” familiar word mixed with the familiar annoyance and the feeling that escaped him and refused to name itself in his mind, so he flickered again, “can you _please_ , for once in your entire career, focus on your mission enough and get back in the country without the help of medical?”

 

“He did it again,” R whispered in the coms and Q _felt_ everyone poking and probing his systems at the same time as the doctors and nurses in the Medical wring started to do the same to his body. “I can’t seem to find anything wrong. We’ll run the tests a few more times to be sure.”

 

It ended up being a very long day, but at least Bond ended up being so worried about his flickering that he did not exchange a single quip with his enemies and he was done with them before they even knew what was happening.

 

Bond even managed to get a flight within the first five minutes he got to the airport – a private flight, the plane belonging to someone that was featured as a former fling and Q ran his own checks on his systems because he was tempted for a fraction of a second to ruin everything owned by the gorgeous, blue-eyed, blonde haired, woman that was practically shoving Bond’s face in her more than generous cleavage – and was in the country in less than four hours.

 

“Bond, if you go through me and smack into a wall again, I swear that I will keep to being an embodied voice and nothing else for as long as you are a double oh agent,” he warned the agent with the elevated heartbeat.

 

“Then I’ll quit being an agent and linger around because you know that no one can make me leave if I don’t want to leave unless they use a tranquilizing dart on me,” he promised, but stopped just short of going through him. “Would you let them do that to me?”

 

Protocols dictated that, in case an agent or any other MI6 employee acted in a way that would pose a possible obstacle in the way things unfolded, they were to be stopped by any means necessary and yes, that included attempting to tranquilize them and even shot to kill if they proved to have ill intent towards other MI6 employees that were not proven traitors or under that suspicion. And yet, Q kept getting an error when trying to imagine the possibility of unlocking the weapons to permit anyone to shoot him down.

 

“Your love for the dramatic has long been taken note of, Bond,” he said instead, hands behind his back. “As such, I will give a negative answer to your question, as I know that it would never come to that.”

 

“And yet, what if it did?” Bond insisted and Q just wanted to have the ability to connect with living tissue just so he could knock on his head and see if there was an echo. “You’re flickering again,” he breathed out, hands hovering over the outline of his face and Q was sure that if he had a physical body, he would feel the warmness of his breath and smell the two glasses of dry martini he had on the flight over. “Why are you doing that? What’s wrong? R, what’s wrong?”

 

“The life support system also picked up a spike in his heart—”

 

“Step away from me,” Q said coldly, interrupting R. “Bond, step away from me,” he ordered this time and the agent did as he was told, the flickering finally stopping. “R, please confirm that the readings went down.” The woman glanced at tablet and nodded. “Bond, come close to me again.” If he was real, their noses would have been brushing now, and Q was flickering like he was a lightbulb in a haunted house. “No need to confirm anything, R,” he said quickly.

 

Bond chuckled, his own readings indicating that he was relaxed. “I’m making you flicker; that’s just too adorable.” He moved the back of his hand down Q’s chin, passing through him just a little. “I wonder if this is the equivalent of blush—” Q disappeared instantly and Bond instantly turned to look at R, eyes filled with horror and fear.

 

“All of his stats are normal for when you are here, James, and none of his programs are affected. Not the servers, not the AI module, and not the life support systems. He just cut off the hologram,” she assured him, patting his back. “You might have scared him off; again.”

 

“He did not scare me off,” Q’s voice rang in the room. “I am simply waiting a few seconds before restarting the hologram to see if that fixes the issue with the flickering or if I’ll have to put that system into maintenance.” He stubbornly refused to acknowledge to himself that this was happening only when Bond was present.

 

“What about your—”

 

“Of course my heart would beat like that,” he interrupted James, focusing all cameras on his smug smirk before manifesting right in front of him, his finger half stuck in his face. “I am worried about this system having bugs and about the possibility of more such errors popping up in more important ones,” he lied through his teeth and worried for a fraction of a second because an AI really shouldn’t do that.  He was also lying about the rebooting part, having originally planned on not using the hologram whenever Bond was around, but the agent’s bloody desperate face got to him in a way it shouldn’t. “There, it should be fixed now.”

 

With a cocky grin, Bond strolled closer to him once more. “Quartermaster, I am not sorry to say that the second I got close to you, you started flickering. Should I strip so you could check to see if maybe I have something on me that might interfere with your hologram?”

 

“Yes! Take off your clothes right now,” Q said without processing Bond’s words. “R, I’ll need you to—” It dawned on him what the agent had in mind when he started to remove his clothes very slowly, fixing him with his eyes.

 

R coughed to mask her laughter, elbowing Bond to get him to stop. “You want me to point out the next time James tricks you into _demanding_ that he strips for you?”

 

Q’s answer was to shut off all the cameras in that room and disappear, but he was quick to reassure Bond that nothing bad had happened to him by ordering him to Medical over the coms for a thorough check-up, claiming that he had managed to see some bruises that might indicate broken ribs.

 

“But, Q, I only took off my jacket and tie,” James protested, but still went to medical, R muttering close to a microphone that the agent will always do his best to fulfil his wishes, cryptically adding a ‘just because’ and a wink when asked why.

 

As if to test R’s words, Q started to ask James to do this for him. Nothing complicated, or that would land him with a traitor stamp on his forehead, but simple things such as coming closer to him or spend the entire day near him but not interact with him when he was talking with the other agents.

 

And James was more than happy to do so, although he was anything but silent. He was constantly asking him about the ongoing missions and about whatever new program or equipment he was working on, seemingly forgetting that Q was nothing more than a hologram and trying to arrange his hair, looking at his hands when they went through the messy hair with disappointment and regret – Q would always shift his appearance of his hair a little when that happened, trying to distract James by also starting to ‘wear’ a colourful cardigan or shirt.

 

When they were not talking about anything related to MI6, James was attempting – and succeeding – small talk. Who know the deadly agent watched so many TV series? And the genres where all over the place, ranging from silly, harmless sitcoms to complicated fantasy ones for which you needed charts to keep up with everything. The man was also ‘feeding’ him pictures and videos of two adorably looking cats, telling Q in great detail about how they loved to sleep on his suits, scare him by hiding in the closet, and sleep curled on him, often waking him up by pawing at his face or outright smacking him.

 

“You do not strike me as the type of person who would have cats,” Q admitted, running his mental hands over a picture of the two fluff balls curled up on a cream coloured cardigan, obviously struggling not to have so much as a hair outside of it. “I considered you to be more of a dog person.”

 

James’ eyes became unfocused for a moment, his smile become a sad one. “They are not exactly mine as they are ‘ours’ and even now, I am not entirely sure that we are the ones owning them.”

 

Confused, Q checked MI6’s folder on James, frowning when he realized that someone had accessed them rather recently and deleted some files from it. “I was also unaware that you were with someone, James, I apologize,” Q said slowly, focusing on cloning the program he was running on his the folder of his hologram approval to run over James’ folder. “I hope you aren’t in trouble because I’m keeping you here.”

 

“Don’t worry, he understands,” James said quickly, surprising Q even more. “Or rather, he would understand if he wasn’t currently away.”

 

Q brushed his hand over James’ back, upset that the man could not feel his attempts at comforting him. “Is he away on a long mission? Is he from MI6? Is he a civilian?” This was something private, but Q couldn’t help but be curious and if James refused to answer, he would understand and completely drop the subject.

 

“Would like me to tell him about him?” James asked instead.

 

Q almost jumped for joy, but he thankfully managed to control himself. “Only if talking about him while he is away doesn’t bother you of course.”

 

James shook his head and his face instantly lit up, eyes shining. “He’s the reason why I know so much about TV series,” he started and suddenly everything made sense to Q. “After we eat what I cook because if it’s not related to tea, he tends to somehow burn water—”

 

“Water evaporates,” Q interrupted him without thinking. “He can burn the pot that the water was boiling…” He trailed off, looking apologetically at James. “Please continue.”

 

“He says the same thing every time it happens, but I swear that I saw the water burning one time,” James said, chuckling. “Anyway, when he’s done washing the dishes – I offered to help, but I am jumpy and he is very silent when walking around so in order – and he has his mug of chamomile tea, we cuddle on the sofa with the cats trying to squeeze in between us. I am tasked with picking what to watch, but I honestly couldn’t care less; he could force me to watch the dumbest show on earth if his smell and warmth washed over me.”

 

Q realized that he felt jealous, but also happy that James had managed to find a way to have such a normal life. And it was obvious even to him that James was absolutely smitten with this person, making him wonder if he had been lucky enough to have this with someone – although since no one came by to check up on him or even presented a request to be allowed in to visit his body in the ‘private hospital’, he assumed that he was still alone, without friends, or family.

 

“We also have game nights and every time I go soft on him when we play shooters, he gets so annoyed that he puffs up his cheeks and the tips of his ears turn read,” James continued, rubbing his fingers together. “I have to kiss him senseless to get him to forgive me, although I do that all the time and who wouldn’t, when his lips always look just perfect to do that.”

 

James’s lover also liked to sleep in his shirts and on his side of the bed when he was away on missions, hated airplanes with a burning passion – something that James admitted he thought was a lie until he was on one with him, ordering glass after glass of expensive champagne and doing his best to distract him from the fact that they were in a fling metal coffin, ten thousand feet in the air with kisses, hugs, back rubs, stupid questions about  anything even remotely technological – could get so lost in a good book that he didn’t even notice James prancing around naked until he had a lap full of his lover and the air sucked out of him via kiss, and was an undefeated master at poker and chess.

 

“He beat me so hard at strip poker that I still owe him about a dozen of stripteases,” James admitted with no shame, grinning. “And he’s also great at playing the piano, though I would have considered it to be a blasphemy if someone with fingers as long and thin as his didn’t caress any other type of keyboard but the computer one.”

 

James talked about his lover, painting him as a god of patience and a demon who accepted offers of sweets, strange mixes of and old computer parts to appease his annoyance whenever James did something moderately stupid – a until the night gave way to morning and before Q could send him home, he fell asleep on the sofa. Logically, waking the agent up and sending him home via company car was the best thing to do, but Q couldn’t bring himself to do so because he had the distinct impression that the man need it.

 

“R, can you please have someone bring a blanket to my former office?” Q asked and not a minute later, six different people were struggling to get through the door with one. “I will be most cross if you wake James up,” he warned and everyone stilled and started to whisper excitedly among themselves, glancing at Q every now and then.

 

While talking about his lover and the things they did together in their free time – though Q always stopped him whenever the conversation took a turn for the intimate, pointing out that the man would most likely be crossed if he found out James was talking about something so personal with what might as well be a stranger – seemed to be a genuine hobby for the agent, he acted as if he was allergic to acknowledging what Q currently was.

 

Worse still, he expected for Q to be treated as human being – touching and praiseworthy, but completely useless – so when the AI made the huge mistake of uttering that he would like to see how the rebuilt Skyfall looks like but turned down James’ offer to go with him there that weekend, explaining that couldn’t leave MI6, the agent decided to take that as code for ‘MI6 treats me like a slave and they don’t even allow me to so much as sleep’.

 

He made a beeline for M’s office with a clear intention of at least punching the man until he passed out, growling at people to get out of his way and easily shrugging off the few security guards that attempted to stop him. “This was not the deal, but don’t worry; I won’t do anything bad to him, Q,” he growled when the AI appeared before him, stopping right before going right through him. “I just want to have a _talk_ with him about getting you some time off. I am sure that by now, you managed to make those programs capable of running themselves and we do have enough boffins to watch over them and make sure they don’t run into any type of errors.”

 

He did and MI6 did, but that was beside the point. “I am a hologram, James,” Q said coldly, arms crossed over his chest, becoming a little see-through when James took a step closer to him, one hand hovering over his cheek and the other over his shoulder. “I do not grow tired, I do not eat or drink in the normal way, and I do not sleep,” he continued. “You can see me as I am now and I can trick you into thinking that I am solid if you are far enough only because of the various projectors around MI6.”

                                                                                   

“I can pay for more to be set up—”

 

Q moved to cover James’ mouth, the agent shutting up out of curtesy as the thin hand went right through him. “Let me drive this apparently painful point home: I exist only to put the minds of others at ease, James. Or just the mind of one,” he added, uncertain and bugged by something.

 

“Q, are you okay?” James asked and Q shook his head, forcing his image to keep still.

 

“I am missing some data regarding the exact reason why there’s a hologram of myself walking around, but otherwise I am fine,” he assured the agent, searching for the files that contained the order and approval for him to exist as a hologram – which was proving harder than he thought, the files being encrypted and re-encrypted, and then finally deleted. “Still, my body is getting all the rest and food it needs, while my mind assures that nothing bad happens to anyone.”

 

“You’re not a program, Q,” James said slowly and ended up hugging himself.

 

“James, I am sorry to tell you this, but in my current condition, I am nothing _but_ a program; a firewall with a face, Google maps with another type of British accent.” Q brushed his hands through James’s back, watching his anger turn into mute acceptance.

 

“I am still making you flicker,” James pointed out after a moment of tense silence, drumming his fingers through Q’s face, sighing when the hologram disappeared.

 

His heart was also beating out of control – more so than usual – and Q checked with his nurses and doctors to be sure that he wasn’t dying, although he didn’t feel his brain’s capacity diminishing or like he was losing control of any of the programs. And they were quick to reply, assuring him for what had to be the hundredth time that month that everything was still in order and nothing more than just an answer to what his awakened consciousness was experiencing.

 

If he combined this information with the fact that all the other agents managed to do when they invaded Q’s personal space was to annoy James and get him to growl at them – which got them all to jump back, hold their hands up in the air in a defensive and nonthreatening manner while apologizing – confirmed that James was truly the one who made Q flicker. It also confirmed another thing which Q didn’t particularly feel like acknowledging.

 

“I advise you to take the rest of the day off, James, as it seems that this pesky system refuses to get fixed.” He focused the cameras on the agent’s slightly trembling hands and checked on his heart and his blood pressure, not liking the readings he was getting at all. “Actually, take the whole month off. I’ll rearrange the mission roster in a way that it won’t overwork your colleagues and I _know_ you managed to get about a year’s worth of paid vacation days. Go on your favourite beach and get reacquainted with…” The words refused to leave his vocal box and he huffed, willing away the annoyance, hands crossed over his chest. “Get reacquainted with the locals and rid yourself of all the stress you’ve gained.”

 

He braced himself for the agent putting up a fight with this forced leave. James even clicked his tongue the way he usually did when he was preparing an argument that didn’t involve fighting, so the outcome was inevitable. But instead of a cold glare, he gave Q a soft one, corners of his lips arching upwards “I’ll take a vacation, but only because you asked me so nicely and also because, unlike other people,” Q assumed those to be the MI6 psychiatrists who were tasked with the Sisyphean task of getting him to see the light and actually do what they told him, “you didn’t try to blackmail me into accepting this downtime.”

 

Q nodded, feeling very proud of himself. “Just tell me where you want to go and I will make all the arrangements.”

 

“Will you be joining me?” James asked and Q looked _beyond_ exasperated with him. “Okay, I will be kind today and spare you from giving me the whole ‘hologram’ speech.” The air quotes seemed rude and uncalled for, but Q will let them slide this time because James was very obviously swaying on his feet. “And because you won’t join me, arrangements won’t be necessary as I’ll stay in my flat in London, with my cats which aren’t mine.” He turned on his heel and started to walk away, hands in his pockets. “But feel free to give me a call if you miss me or if you need help with anything.”

 

Q originally scoffed at that, but he wasn’t really surprised when he found himself missing the man’s presence and voice not even a day later. And as if the realization that he, nothing more than a computer program at this point, actually harboured feelings that went way beyond annoyance and tolerance for a co-worker that was in a happy, loving, and very normal relationship, his hands and face were tingling.

 

He didn’t bother asking Medical what was happening this time, only slightly furious that despite the normal protocol, there were no security cameras in his room. “R, take your phone, turning the camera on and go to where my body is,” he instructed and the woman froze in her seat, but he couldn’t care less about it because, goddamn it, the touch felt familiar and it was pleasant even if it wasn’t sexual in any way and he was going to get to the bottom of who was making him feel so good and forcing his body to communicate with his brain.

 

She looked around for help, Q disabling the keyboards and computers of everyone who even so much as glanced back at her. “Quartermaster, no one is allowed in your hospital room—”

 

“R, have the decency not to insult me with that half-attempt at a lie because it will lower my respect for you,” Q chided her and the woman sighed, shoulders slumped as she got up and started her phone.

 

Now, MI6 had two Medical wings: one inside the actual building – where simple cases such as minor burns, cuts, and mild cases of illnesses or headaches – and another one right across from the actual MI6 building which was disguised as one of the most expensive private hospitals in the U.K – that was where seriously injured agents were taken to and that was where Q’s comatose body was.

 

They had to pass through a lot of security checks to get to the actual room, R stopping right before the door. “Q, are you sure you want to do this? The doctors and psychiatrists aren’t sure of how your brain will react to seeing this.”

 

“ _R, I am aware of the fact that I am in a coma. I assure you that I won’t have a meltdown no matter what awaits for me in there so open that door already,_ ” he snapped at the poor woman, already ordering an ancient piece of hardware he had seen her gawk at a few weeks ago as an apology.

 

He expected to find the kinds of things agents found in the laboratories of the mandatory mad scientists – that their enemies seemed to hire just because – but instead he found a normal room with an agent sitting in an uncomfortable chair, squeezing his hand as he kissed his knuckles.

 

“ _I can’t believe that I am still surprised when I find out that **you** are the reason why this program is acting outside the expected parameters,_ ” Q said and James was instantly on his feet, covering as much as he could of Q’s body with his own, gun pointed at the phone. “ _This is not getting your rest, agent. And I am not entirely sure you lover would be too happy finding out that you were being this close to a co-worker._ ”

 

James sighed, lowering his gun. “I don’t think I can pretend anymore,” he murmured and sat back down next to Q, grabbing his hand. “R, could you leave us alone? I promise that I’ll actually take care of your phone and bring it back to you in one piece.”

 

“I believe that only because Q is on the screen,” she joked and turned the camera towards herself. “Quartermaster, I am going to assign the important missions to some of our best technicians and I will oversee the others myself, so do not worry about shutting down a few programs if you feel the need.”

 

She handed James the phone and then felt, Q staring at the careful way the man was holding his hand. “ _It’s disconcerting_ ,” he said after about a minute of silence. “ _To see myself like this, I mean. Can you tell me how I ended up like this? I don’t remember anything and since I’m still working on getting passed through the firewalls that surround the files on what happened I suspect that all of my technicians banded together and encoded them.”_

 

“Minions,” James said slowly, sketching a smile as he looked up at Q. “You loved calling them your minions and they loved being called that.” He started to run his fingers up Q’s pale arm, carefully avoiding the needles, causing goose bumps to appear. “You even had custom made cup-cakes in the shape of those annoying yellow creatures for them on your birthday.”

 

Q remembered the bill for that and got a confirmation from his bank statements, but nothing else. He didn’t remember if they were good – or the taste of food in general – how they looked, or if his ‘minions’ got a good kick out of them or groaned in disdain. “ _I imagine that I got you and the other agents something that wasn’t cup-cakes, right?”_

 

James looked like he was in pain. “You gave me a messy kiss that I still consider a mind blowing one and the other agents got to see you walking around with puffy lips and a hickey on your neck. That and Belgian chocolates which they ate while glaring at me.” He brushed the hair off of Q’s forehead. “I’m going to have to give you another haircut pretty soon. And a shave,” he added, caressing his face. “Unless you want to go for the lumbersexual look, which I think you can pull off if you take the one checkered—”

 

“ _I’m your lover,”_ Q said suddenly. “ _When you said ‘our cats’ you really meant our cats; not the cats of yourself and another person, but **ours**. We live together and we…_ ” He trailed off, shutting down a few programs that weren’t really needed because he was starting to get long strings of errors.

 

James nodded, still caressing Q’s face – and Q felt the need to shiver, closing his eyes and just enjoying it. “I’m the reason why there’s a hologram of you walking around in MI6 instead of being nothing more than a disembodied voice.” His voice was shaky, almost cracked. “The last words that passed your lips were ‘Project: Angel on Shoulder’. Malory’s superiors couldn’t throw money at us faster to get it online, but I _couldn’t_ just let them reduce you to nothing more than that and everyone else joined in because they love – not as much as me; I don’t think anyone can, but I might be blind – and we were granted an extra budget for the hologram.”

 

The silence between them was a heavy one now and Q found himself shutting down more and more programs without meaning to. “ _James, I am sorry for insisting, but can you please tell me how I ended up like this? And I mean everything that happened to lead to me asking you to use that unfortunate named project._ ” How drunk was he when he had come up with that name and for how long James had been MIA?

 

The man arranged the covers around Q a few times before finally looking at the phone. “It was my fault. Spectre was better off being named Hydra because the second Franz’s life was spared on the bridge, another leader instantly popped up and took over. You’d think that the organization would have the decency to self-destruct due to an internal power struggle, but for all his talk about being sure that he was going to take me down, the bastard had already named his successor.”

 

Q imagined himself running his hand down James’ face and then leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “ _He is sort of a Bond and you do make sure you have every base covered even when you have no doubt of an outcome._ ” He remembered when they went on their first trip aboard together that was planned by James and they were drowning in backup tickets to the backup tickets. And this was him trying his best to forget that he remembered the fact that he was in all the versions of James’ will.

 

“I should have dumped Miss Swann on some other agent,” James growled, releasing his hand so he could crack his knuckles. “The way you looked at me that night on the bridge and the following day so sure that I was leaving you for her. My horrible line even went over your head because you thought I meant it and just gave me the keys to the Aston Martin…” He trailed off and sighed, clearly trying to stay focused. “They rammed your car off the road, dragged you out, broke your nose, shot you in the limbs, but before they could put a bullet through your skull, the backup security team reached you and took them out. They were lucky I wasn’t there because they are still alive and _mostly_ in one piece.”

 

“ _James, take my hands and put your face in them_ ,” Q instructed and James did as asked without a single moment of hesitation. “ _Now rest our foreheads together, if the tubes don’t get in the way._ ” They did and they dug in James’ nose, but the agent made it look like he was unaffected. “ _And now listen to my words carefully: it wasn’t your fault—”_

 

“If I was driving that car—”

 

“ _Then we would have both been dead because they would have come prepared to take you down, James._ ” He wished he could rub their noses together and peck his lips, caressing his face to sooth away the guilt and sadness. “ _I am not braindead as I am capable of being this, so be patient._ ”  

 

James sighed and Q felt a bit of pressure around his head, meaning that the man was probably squeezing him – not enough to hurt him though. “It’s been a fourteen months and it took you forever to call me by my first name again.”

 

Q couldn’t assure James that everything was going to be okay. Hell, he was surprised that this program worked and he was worried about that now since what would stop their enemies from employing the same one to destroy them and take over the world? No, as soon as he got better – or worse – he was going to have it destroyed.

 

Still, what he could do for James right now was get at least a chuckle from him. “ _This is going to make your ego even bigger than it already is, but you managed to make me fall for you for a second time,_ ” he admitted. _“You made me have butterflies in my stomach when I was whole, and as a computer program, you made me flicker.”_

 

James sketched a smile and Q considered it a victory. “I’ll make you fall for me for a third time if I have to, Q.”

 

“ _James, I want to feel your lips,_ ” Q said suddenly. “ _I don’t remember… Please take my mask off and kiss me,_ ” he pleaded.

 

“Q, you aren’t breathing on your own,” James argued, squeezing his hands and kissing his knuckles. “I put you in this bed, but I refuse to kill you.” He was using his rare, no-nonsense voice, Q remembering it from the time he had suggested to use himself as bait to take down a paramilitary organization that heavily relied on misguided hackers to procure themselves funds and weapons.

 

However, from the files he was accessing, Q knew that he still got his way and that the mission went exactly as planned – minus the bullet James got to the leg – so it was clear that the voice held no real power other than to show just how concerned his lover was. If he insisted a little bit, but Q wasn’t about to force anyone into kissing him. “ _Kiss me the second I open my eyes so I can remember?_ ”

 

“I’ll shove the nurses and doctors out of my way,” James promised, running the back of his hand over Q’s face. “And then I’ll help you remember absolutely anything and everything you want, love.”

 

Q’s fingers twitched.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love <3


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